


With Many Moments To Come

by Vampiyaa



Series: Forever and More [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Episode: s07e15: The Day of the Doctor, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Time War, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 19:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5509466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampiyaa/pseuds/Vampiyaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War Doctor/Rose AU; Part Eight-point-Five of the Forever and More series. The Warrior, as he now prefers to be called, is ordered into the Capitol's vault in the midst of the Time War and stumbles upon a creation deemed, by the Time Lords themselves, too dangerous to use. But he doesn't understand— how can this blonde girl in tattered clothes possibly be dangerous? 50th rewrite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Many Moments To Come

With Many Moments To Come

There was a man, battered, old and bitter-faced, who walked with a brisk stride through the dusty but mostly intact halls. From the outside looking in, he seemed to be like any other soldier— shoulders squared with confidence but weighed down with the past, eyes heavy and haunted, mouth pulled into a frown that had probably been there for years. Once, he was known as a healer, a righter of wrongs — _the Doctor_ , he called himself — but it was inappropriate to use that name now. He didn’t heal; he destroyed. So, upon essentially committing suicide and forcing himself to change from healer to soldier, he adopted an appropriate name: the Warrior. Years of fighting later, he still found it fitting.

Mud-splattered boots thudded heavily and echoed off the empty walls, making the Warrior bristle nervously. After a hundred plus years of ambient noise consisting of non-stop explosions, silence was almost unnerving to him. He continued to glance warily over his shoulder as though expecting someone to leap out of the shadows, only stopping when he reached the end of the hallway. Before him was a door that stretched all the way up to the arched ceiling, made of a glittery bronze-coloured metal and covered in gears. Unperturbed, the Warrior grabbed hold of a smaller, outwardly extended gear with his work-roughened hands and turned it to the right with a grunt of effort. The rest of the gears turned with it, squeaking slightly from disuse, until the door swung forward on its own.

The lights flickered on and the Warrior took in the sight of the neatly organised Omega Arsenal, filled with the most dangerous weapons in the universe. There were several spaces on the shelves, no doubt left by weapons that had been approved for removal and were most likely currently in use. In fact, the Gallifreyan High Council had ordered him to extract one of those weapons after a foolish Dalek attack had torn a hole in the fabric of space— they had described it as a sort of spatial mender, which the Warrior knew was a highly experimental tool.

“Desperate times and all,” he muttered to himself, stepping into the Arsenal and trying to keep Romana’s description in mind as he searched through the various weapons.

Grumbling to himself, he began scanning the room for the spatial mender, already grimacing at the idea of having to hand it over to the idiots that intended to use it. If the Warrior had his way, it’d stay locked up tightly where it belonged, unable to hurt anybody. But he was the Warrior, not the Doctor, so by Rassilon, he’d hand it over to the idiots that intended to use it with no complaint whatsoever.

It wasn’t hard to find, amidst the remaining weapons, but just as he stood on tiptoe to reach the round mine-looking thing something else caught his eye. A small ornate box adorned with gears, it was a stark contrast compared to the overly embellished, giant guns and temporal cannons, and was set atop a plinth. He turned away from the spatial mender and approached it, picking it up and turning it this way and that. It was heavier than he expected, for a tiny box, and bizarrely designed for something that was supposed to be a weapon. He wondered which Time Lord it was that had created it, and what it actually did.

The Warrior stiffened, suddenly aware of a presence behind him. In the same split second he whirled around, grabbed a nearby pistol-looking thing and aimed it in front of him, finger already twitching on the trigger. He lowered it in confusion when he saw that his ‘attacker’ was a blank-faced, sweet-looking girl with curled blonde hair, a scraggly blouse two sizes too big for her and ripped black tights. She stood half behind one of the shelves with an air of wariness and looked almost heavy. Not physically — in that department she was almost stick-thin, actually — but mentally, like she’d seen as many horrors as he had. Before he could ask who she was, she let her eyes stray to the ground, crossed her arms protectively over her chest and said in a tired, lower-class London voice, “I wouldn’t play with that if I were you.”

“What?” It came out almost snappishly, so much so that he was afraid for a second that he’d scared her.

She looked utterly unperturbed, looking up from the ground to stare him down with piercing brown eyes. “I _said_ ,” she huffed, “I wouldn’t _play with that_ if I were you.”

He took a moment to just blink at her, mind whirring trying to figure out why there was a scraggly, incredibly young — and evidently human — girl locked up along with the most dangerous weapons in the universe. Setting the box back down for a moment, he asked her with bewilderment, “Who are you, girl? Where are you from? How did you get in here?”

Quirking an eyebrow, she said airily, “Well which is it you want me to answer first?”

“Any of them!” he exclaimed with impatience. 

She shrugged, still untroubled by his lack of manners. “The Time Lords put me here.” 

“What do you mean, the Time Lords put you in here?” the Warrior asked with a frown. He wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of his own people, but he had a hard time believing the High Council had intentionally locked up a human girl barely out of her teenage years. “When?”

“Dunno,” she said, shrugging again. “Was a while ago.” While he processed her words, trying to think of how such a thing could happen, the girl looked him up and down with an interested expression. “Are you a Time Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Have you come to destroy me?”

“No,” he said confusedly, blinking at her. “What makes you think I’ve come to destroy you?”

“‘Cos you’re a Time Lord,” she said quietly, tightening her grip on her arms and returning her gaze to the floor. “The Time Lords are afraid of me. S’why they locked me in here.”

For a second time, a long silence stretched out between the two of them. The girl played idly with a loose thread on her blouse and the Warrior studied her intently as though the mystery of her would unravel if only he stared at her long enough.

“Who are you?” he asked finally. She exhaled a quiet breath, not answering at first, before straightening up and pointing clearly to the ornate box half-hidden behind the Warrior. He followed her finger, frown deepening. “I don’t understand. What—?” He stopped himself short, the remembrance of rumours swirling around from his youth, mostly echoed by a young Master— a weapon created by the ancients of Gallifrey, so sophisticated it had supposedly developed its own consciousness. “Bloody hell,” he said, in shock and awe and a little bit of fear. “You’re the _Moment_?”

She paused for a moment, contemplating his question. “Yes…” she said slowly, drawing out the word in her mouth, “… and no. More like the interface’s consciousness that accidentally developed within a sophisticated operating system by purely random chance.” At his bizarre glance, she shrugged for a third time and said, “S’what the Time Lords said when they saw me.”

The Warrior exhaled a humourless chuckle, sinking down to sit on an empty shelf when he found no strength left to stand. He was here, in the middle of the most heinous war in history, having a chat with the accidental consciousness of an ancient weapon dubbed the most dangerous thing ever created. Who, subsequently, had taken on the form of a scraggly but otherwise lovely human girl. He’d seen some bizarre things in the course of his lifetime, but this took the cake. 

Even though he roughly knew the answer, he asked her, “How long have you been here?”

“Not sure,” she said with yet another shrug, taking after him and lowering herself to sit on the dusty floor, hugging her knees. “Feels like forever. Normally I just sleep, but sometimes people come in here to get other weapons and I hide.”

“Why didn’t you hide from me?”

“You were the only one who picked up the box,” she replied with a surprisingly charming half-smile, tongue at the corner of her mouth. He felt his own mouth quirk up in response, the long unused muscles feeling stiff but nice, and his grin grew a little wider when he realised the first person to make him smile since the war was the Galaxy Eater itself— or rather, _herself_. “You’re different from the other Time Lords,” the girl said with interest, all caution in her eyes gone and replaced with curiosity. “What’s your name?”

“The Doc—” he started to say instinctively, stopping himself with a frown and a cold feeling washing over him. “The Warrior,” he finished after a pause, sombre-faced once again.

She frowned at him, saying almost immediately, “That’s not your name.”

The Warrior’s frown deepened, half in annoyance and half in confusion at her matter-of-fact tone. “Yes it is.”

“No it’s not. I know it’s not.”

“How do you know?” 

She blinked, suddenly looking unsure of herself. “I just know.” The sudden, strong aftershock of a nearby explosion rocked the Time Vaults, making the Warrior stumble and the girl merely look up in disappointment. When the trembling ceased, she hugged her knees tighter and mumbled, “You should go.”

He knew she was right but grimaced nonetheless, looking between her, the spatial mender he’d been sent to fetch and the still ajar door to the Omega Arsenal. She looked utterly let down at the prospect of him leaving, and it was that (and the idea of spending millennia locked in a vault) which made him pledge, “I’ll come back.”

The girl looked at him, astonished. “You will?”

“Yes,” he said earnestly. “I promise.”

She beamed at him, cheeks plumping and flushing pink, and yet again he found himself smiling back in return. “When?”

“As soon as possible. I have to bring this—” He interrupted his own sentence to reach up for the spatial mender again, taking it down off the shelves and tucking it under his arm, “— to the High Council first.”

“Okay,” she chirped, hopping to her feet. “Bye Doctor!”

He whirled around, already demanding, “How did you—?”

“I just know,” she said at once, never losing her smile.

He wrinkled his nose at her but grunted a farewell anyway, quickly striding out of the Arsenal, already questioning his decision. Perhaps later, he would peruse the libraries and find more information on the Moment.

*

Unfortunately, his plans didn’t quite work out as hoped.

The second he’d handed over the spatial mender to the Council, Romana had urgently ordered him to the site of the spatial scission, having heard intel that the Daleks were attempting to harness energy from it. It took two and a half weeks of near non-stop work for the tear to mend and to fight off the Daleks, forcing him to put researching the Moment (and contemplating about her altogether) on the backburner. By the time that particular fight was over and Romana had ordered him back to his ship to rest for at least a full day, he was too worn out to do anything but collapse onto a conveniently placed cot on the console room floor, with a grateful grunt to his ship. 

When he awoke six hours later, feeling rested but stiff, the Warrior downed the glass of water the TARDIS set out for him and turned to the console with determination. “All right then, old girl,” he said, “show me everything on the Moment.” The TARDIS’s humming changed in pitch into something decidedly confused. “Just do it, please,” the Warrior said a bit snappishly.

She beeped at him indignantly but obediently brought up all information she had in her database about the Moment. It turned out most of the rumours from his youth weren’t incorrect. It was intended to be a bomb, dubbed ‘the Galaxy Eater’ for the sheer magnitude of damage the explosive was designed to do. Upon discovering a consciousness had accidentally developed, its inventors had locked it away, fearing its moral judgement. He didn’t blame them— who would want to use a bomb capable of choosing whether or not to go off?

The TARDIS pulled him from his research with a mental poke and a question of whether he was ready to share. “I met a young human girl in the Time Vaults,” he said aloud, not looking away from the screen. “She said she was the Moment. I know, right?” he added in awe, when he felt the TARDIS’s faint shock. “Apparently she’s been there since the Ancients locked her away…”

The Warrior’s voice trailed off, wondering if he should tell Romana and the Council. Surely they wouldn’t allow her to spend another eternity locked away in there if he told them of her existence. Then he scoffed at himself— of _course_ they would, and they’d ban him from ever accessing the Time Vaults again for merely suggesting it. He could already picture it in his mind: Romana would watch him with pity, unable to step in as the Council would scoff and sneer at him for wanting to save a girl that wasn’t even real. Except she _was_ real, in a way— a real consciousness, at least, though trapped in an artificial container. The complexity of the situation made his head spin, but he pushed it aside and focused at the task at hand. If he was going to get her out, he’d have to do it himself, and in secret.

Upon fetching a bag as inconspicuous-looking as possible and stuffing it into his pocket, the Warrior sent out a hail to Romana, who answered with a look of concern on her face. “Doctor? I thought I told you to rest for at least twenty-four hours.”

“I’m fine, Romana. And I told you to stop calling me that,” he added snappishly, scowling when she rolled her eyes. “I’m just calling to request access to the Time Vaults.”

“Why?” she said a bit suspiciously.

He felt his cheeks burn under the weight of her stare as he lied, “Need to put the spatial mender back, don’t I?”

“I suppose,” Romana sighed. “But for Rassilon’s sake, next time I order you to take time off, please listen.”

“No guarantees,” the Warrior said with a hint of his old humour.

He cut the transmission and piloted the TARDIS straight outside the Vaults, grabbing the spatial mender and holding it noticeably for show. His pace quickened when the looming door of gears became visible, glancing behind him to make sure no curious Time Lords were following him before pushing open the door. The lights turned on at once, dimly illuminating the room, but he couldn’t see the girl. Maybe she was hiding?

“S’just me,” he called out, feeling decidedly stupid for talking to an empty room. 

The feeling dissipated the moment a dirty blonde head peeked out from behind a shelf, eyes round as coins. “You’re here.”

“Yes. I’m sorry it took so long; there was a pressing matter I had to attend to first,” he explained regretfully, pulling the bag out of his pocket and approaching her.

He faltered in his steps a little when she beamed at him again, coming out of her hiding spot. “I didn’t know if you’d come back!” When he grumbled awkwardly and occupied himself with shoving the spatial mender back onto its shelf, her gaze went down to the bag in his hands and she asked, “What’s that for?”

“You,” he said bluntly, walking past her towards the ornate box and picking it up. “I’m getting you out of here.”

“You are?” she said curiously, watching him stuff the Moment into the bag and tie the end together with a cord. “Why?”

“Don’t you want to get out of here?” he asked, realising with a jolt that he hadn’t even asked— just assumed. 

Thankfully his lack of manners did no harm, because she nodded enthusiastically, looking hopeful. “You’re gonna get me out of here?” He nodded as well, heaving the bag over his shoulder. “How?”

“It might be tough,” he grimaced. “We’ll have to sneak you out of here. There’s still a chance someone could see you, but—”

“Why would they see me?” the girl interrupted blankly. “You have me in the bag.”

The Warrior frowned at her, realising after a short pause that she meant the box. It was a cold reminder that he wasn’t just rescuing a sweet human girl, and he stuttered out, “Oh, er, I meant…” 

He gestured wordlessly at her human form with one hand, and realisation dawned on her face. “Oh!” she exclaimed and laughed. “Never mind that. No one can see me but you.”

“I see,” he said awkwardly.

There was another short pause, in which the Warrior tried to think of what to say next — honestly, this body was better suited for fighting than talking — but he didn’t need to. The girl broke the silence by smiling warmly, stepping forward and taking his calloused hand in hers. He looked to her, shocked and amazed to find her hand was soft, slender and warm, poking a giant hole in his ‘she’s not technically real’ mental mantra. 

“Let’s go, then,” he said quietly, gripping her hand back and leading her out of the Time Vaults.

*

The walk back to the TARDIS was awkward, to say the least. The Warrior continuously glanced around, face burning, feeling like the whole universe could tell he’d just stolen the most dangerous weapon in the universe— and was holding hands with the physical manifestation of its consciousness. The girl seemed oblivious to his discomfort, swinging their hands back and forth and walking with her head thrown back, exclaiming happily about the sights. She faltered for some reason when they approached the TARDIS, the excited look sliding off her face into curiosity.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her, noticing her abrupt change in demeanour.

She turned to him with round, blank eyes, before shrugging one shoulder. “Nothing,” she said airily.

He frowned but obediently dropped the subject, pushing the TARDIS doors open for her. She stepped through them, taking in the interior of the ship with a neutral expression on her face as the Warrior busied himself with lugging the Moment inside, setting it down at the base of the console before piloting them away to the capsule docking stations.

“Been a while, love,” she murmured to the ceiling, so quietly the Warrior didn’t hear it. 

The TARDIS replied with an angry, disapproving hum, which the Warrior caught; he looked up at once, frowning at the console. “What’s the matter, old girl?” 

She sent him the mental equivalent of a scowl before going completely silent, metaphorically storming away. Muttering an annoyed, “Fine, be that way,” under his breath, he busied himself again with taking the Moment out of the bag and placing it carefully in a chest under the console, for safety.

“Are you gonna take me home?” 

The Warrior raised his head at the question, asking with astonishment, “You have a home?” He hadn’t even stopped to consider that, but then, why would he? Everything about her stated that she’d been born/created on Gallifrey and spent her entire life in the Omega Arsenal.

What was even more peculiar was the way she frowned and quirked a confused eyebrow at him, like he was the one who asked an odd question. “What is home?” 

He was even more confused. “You just said…” The girl just blinked at him, truly looking like she had no idea what he was saying. So instead he decided to ask her one of the few things that had been on his mind for a bit— and because he really needed to stop calling her ‘the girl’ in his mind. “What’s your name?”

“My name.” She brightened a little bit as she thought about it. “I think my name’s… Rose Tyler.” The TARDIS returned in a huff and let out an angry beep from the console, making both the Warrior and the girl start. “Sorry,” she apologised to the ship, wrinkling her nose as she thought harder. “That’s not quite right…” His frown deepened even further. “I think… it’s Bad Wolf.”

“Bad Wolf?” he repeated, finding that it suited her and feeling odd about it.

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’ and smiling. 

The Warrior stared at her for a moment, but stopped when she became noticeably uncomfortable. “All right,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Bad Wolf it is then.” Switching to another awkward topic, he continued, “So… _Bad Wolf_ , do you know what exactly you are?”

“A bomb,” she said bluntly, making him flinch a bit. “Well, the ones that made me said I was ‘a device designed to focus on a single point in space-time and create a highly concentrated quantum singularity to collapse as large an area of space as possible’. Which is basically just another posh term for bomb, so yeah. Bomb.” At his slightly stunned expression, she smiled warmly and added, “Don’t worry, s’not like I’m gonna just decide to go off inside the TARDIS. If that’s what I wanted to do, don’t think I would’ve chosen this form, yeah?” The Bad Wolf girl gestured to herself with a bright grin, as though she figured he’d understand whatever the hell she’d just said. “Then again, this girl was the obvious choice anyway,” she said dreamily. “Once she absorbed the Vortex and touched every single point in space and time at the exact same moment.” The TARDIS let out another disapproving noise and this time the Bad Wolf girl rounded on her, saying accusingly, “Oi, you know it’s true! You helped.”

“What?” the Warrior managed to say dumbly, after a full minute of silence. 

Before she could address him, the console suddenly let out a loud alarm and a red button began to beep, indicating an emergency incoming message. Sending his new guest (who looked utterly oblivious to his bewilderment) a quick glance, he flicked a switch and the monitor lit up with Romana’s terrified face. “What’s the matter, Romana?” 

“Oh thank God, Doctor, you’re all right,” the President gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth for a moment before quickly glancing around her to make sure nobody saw her.

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped. “What do you mean?”

“The Time Vaults, Doc— _Warrior_ ,” Romana abruptly corrected herself, at his livid look. “They’ve been annihilated.”

“ _What_?!” the Warrior exclaimed. “When?”

Romana snorted, a very un-Time Lady like noise. “About thirty seconds ago. There was a brief flicker in the city’s outer shielding, but it was enough for the Daleks to fire a temporal missile. Thankfully they missed the Capitol; unfortunately they’ve destroyed our entire arsenal.”

He exhaled a breath, slumping a little on the console when it hit him just how close he’d come to being blown up along with it. “I was in there just a minute ago.”

Romana sent him a thinly veiled look of relief. “Glad you got out in time, my friend.” He sent her a weak smile in thanks, but it quickly dropped away when she asked him tentatively, “When you were in there… did you by any chance see a brass box on a pedestal?” 

His mouth dropped open in shock. “What?”

“A box, Doctor, a box,” Romana said urgently. “It had a brass covering and High Gallifreyan carved over it. Did you see it?”

“Er…” _Yes, and I stole it to save the trapped consciousness inside of it_. “No,” he lied, face heating up but expression never wavering. When Romana slumped, the Warrior, curiosity burning in his veins, asked, “Why, what was it?”

“It was called the Moment,” Romana said. “I’m sure you remember a few rumours about it back in school.”

“Might do,” he said vaguely.

“Well, it was our plan B. The Council and I have long foreseen the possible end to this war in the Matrix, Doctor, and the worst possibility grows more and more probable by the day.” 

He swallowed hard— he too, with his meagre ability to see timelines, could see a horrific storm approaching. Pushing that aside, he said gruffly, “And what did you plan to do with it?”

“Detonate it, of course.” The Warrior flinched and chanced a glance at the Bad Wolf girl, who stood utterly still, not looking frightened in the least. This confused him, but Romana continued, “We had planned to draw as many Daleks and their subsequent allies as far away from Gallifrey as possible. If that should fail, we’d ‘go down with the ship’, so to speak.”

The Warrior swallowed again, feeling a terrified lump rise in his throat. Then something occurred to him. “I’ve never known the Council to be so generous and selfless, Romana,” he said with a frown. “They really agreed to sacrifice Gallifrey to save the rest of the universe?”

Romana’s cheeks flushed pink. “Not as such,” she said lightly. “This was more my idea.” Internally he groaned, and Romana put her face in her hands. “Now there’s talk of resurrecting Rassilon.”

“What?!” he practically shouted, making the Bad Wolf girl jump slightly.

“People are desperate, Doctor,” Romana said, sounding equally displeased at the idea. “They figure if Rassilon could save them in the past, why not now?”

“He won’t save us,” the Warrior snarled, curling his fist. “He’ll be our downfall.”

“And mine,” Romana added resentfully. “If they actually go through with this I’ll no longer be President.” He scowled, feeling nauseous— Romana was the only level-headed person left on the High Council. With her gone, Gallifrey’s fate would no doubt fall into the hands of those who would sacrifice the rest of the universe in exchange for the planet’s survival. “I have to get back,” she sighed. “I’ll do my best to sway the opinion. And you would do well to rest,” she added snappishly. “I mean it this time.”

“You meant it last time too,” he quipped with no humour, switching off the monitor and leaning on the console for leverage. Gods, could this blasted war get any more mental?

A warm hand suddenly hooked around his and squeezed it comfortingly, and he looked down to see the Bad Wolf girl had approached and was smiling up at him. “Don’t worry,” she said, in an impossibly soft voice. “It’ll work out in the end.”

Her words were meant to be kind, but he snorted at them, quite rudely. “How do you know that?”

“Well, it’s how I’m here, isn’t it?” the Bad Wolf girl said brightly, with another tongue-touched grin. “Wouldn’t be if you hadn’t saved the universe and everyone in it.”

“What are you talking about?” he said in annoyance, a little fed up at her constantly making little sense. 

“Well, you—” she started to answer, but stopped when the TARDIS hummed warningly at her. “Why can’t I tell him that?” Another hum, and her mouth made a surprised ‘oh’. “Right. Future.”

“You can see the future?” he said curiously.

“Sometimes.” She shrugged, before blinking up at him. “She called you ‘Doctor’.”

His expression soured, and he turned away to defiantly stare at the wall. “She was wrong.”

“No she wasn’t.”

“That’s not my name.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s _not_ ,” he insisted, scowling. “I am the Warrior— not the Doctor. When I chose that name, it was a promise to the universe, and this body has broken that promise. I kill people, I don’t save them.”

“You saved me from being obliterated in a Dalek attack five minutes ago,” Bad Wolf pointed out with a beam. His cheeks heated up yet again at her praise, which just made him scowl further. “And you’re saving the universe right now,” she added softly, reverently almost, “and everyone in it. You’re making sure the one person you’ll love for the rest of your life has the chance to live.” He opened his mouth to utter another confused exclamation, but instead stood there and blushed furiously. How much did this Bad Wolf girl know about him? “No one’s really gonna have a chance to say this in the future, but _thank you_ , Doctor…” She turned and tightly wrapped her arms around him, snuggling her head against his chest, “for saving the universe.”

Future. He had a future. A tiny spark of hope — something he hadn’t felt in almost a century — sputtered to life in his chest, and he, despite being the gruffest version of himself yet, hugged this tiny not-so-human girl back as tight as he could, so grateful he didn’t even correct her usage of his old name.

*

The Warrior — which he still referred to himself as — enjoyed the Bad Wolf girl’s company for a full twenty-six hours before the Capitol recalled him into duty. He spent time with her the whole while, discovering that she really wasn’t that bad of a conversationalist once you got to know her… and managed to look past the scattered near nonsensical utterings of future knowledge. He learned that she used to like chips (“Can’t eat them now,” she’d laughed. “Holographic representations don’t eat chips.”) and that while she couldn’t drink tea, she could make a brilliant cuppa for him. He kept the questions about her ‘previous life’ to a minimum despite being incredibly curious — honestly, what kind of a weapon had eaten chips once? — and mostly just kept them entertained by letting her peruse the library (“You have so many books! Where do you keep the Dickens? We met him once, you know.”) or simply relaxing in front of the hearth. 

At one point he’d excused himself to take a quick nap, figuring he may as well fit it in while he had the time. To his immense astonishment, she’d followed him into his bedroom requesting to stay with him for a bit (“Don’t much want to be on my own right now,” she’d confessed quietly. “Been alone for a long time.”) and, even more shockingly, he’d accepted. She brightened, promised to be quiet and, to his embarrassment, crawled into bed with him, drew him back so he was resting his head on her stomach and began drawing her fingers through his grey-dusted hair. On any normal day, the Warrior would have shoved her aside and demanded to know why the hell she found that appropriate, but he didn’t, too taken aback with this peculiar Bad Wolf girl. Plus — and this was the deciding factor — her nails scratching his scalp and massaging away the headache he hadn’t even known was there felt amazing. He fell asleep to it and woke up an hour later feeling more rested than he ever had in his lengthy lifetime. It was incredibly embarrassing, to a man who had killed off his previously gallant self so he could become a no-nonsense soldier, to wake up in a human girl’s lap. She seemed utterly delighted about it though, so he didn’t bring it up.

When the Warrior finally left her behind, he did so with a hug (that she induced… sort of) and a stern promise that he would return as soon as possible. “The TARDIS will keep you safe,” he told her, “and I won’t be going far at the moment. She can show you how to contact me if something goes wrong.”

“Okay,” Bad Wolf said, giving his hand a squeeze and a slightly disappointed smile. “Go save the universe, then.”

He felt his whole body flush with warmth, glad to have someone to say farewell to and assure him he was truly doing the right thing. With a grateful smile, he left her alone in the console room.

With him gone, Bad Wolf turned to the ceiling and addressed the TARDIS in a dire voice. “Now then. I suppose you want to talk to me.” The TARDIS let out a noise of stern approval. “Well I’m sorry you don’t like that I took this form,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “Like I said, she was the best choice. An’ you know that.” The ship made a defiant noise and Bad Wolf said sternly, “You know it is— don’t lie to me. Of all the people a bomb that can choose when to go off could take, I take Rose Tyler’s. She would never want to detonate herself and kill billions of people. _And_ she’s the only one who could ever convince the Doctor what the right thing to do is.” The ship paused for a moment before making a sound of grudging agreement. The girl sighed to herself, caressing one of her arms with the other. “She was the first one I saw. The only one that touched me— the day I was born and every second after that. Once she was the mother of time, and then the next second she wasn’t.”

There was another moment of silence, in which the TARDIS quietly appraised her. She, meanwhile, circled the console and placed her hands on the part of it that was empty of knobs and buttons, the part that was latched firmly shut. Her fingers drummed on both of the latches for a moment.

“I looked into the TARDIS…” she murmured to herself, almost too quiet for anyone to hear, “… and the TARDIS looked into me. I’m sorry,” Bad Wolf added quietly, to the TARDIS’s confusion. “I’m sorry I’m hurting you. You must have been close to her, looking into her soul like that.”

 _I will be_ , came three sadly uttered words reverberating in her head.

Patting the console, Bad Wolf said regretfully, “I’m her, old girl. I may not have been born Rose Tyler, but I know everything she knows and more. Felt everything she did and ever will. She loves you, and she loves him.” 

The TARDIS let out a mournful-sounding shudder, and the girl took a moment to hug the console as best she could.

*

The Warrior stumbled back inside the TARDIS after another three weeks of non-stop battle, collapsing onto the floor the moment the doors shut as he had many times before. He didn’t catch sight of the Bad Wolf girl in the five seconds his eyes remained open, so it didn’t occur to him to bother moving, fully prepared to take a nap where he fell. Instead, a warm pair of hands slid over his shoulders, and the girl’s voice murmured quietly, “C’mere.”

The Warrior tried to lift himself up but only managed to get about an inch off the ground. She easily helped him, one hand slipping underneath him and pushing his chest up while the other manoeuvred his arm over her shoulder. Somehow she managed to lift him to his feet (evidently she was stronger than her slender frame suggested) and lead him out of the console room— presumably to his bedroom, since he still couldn’t muster up the strength to re-open his eyes. Eventually he felt her lay him down on his mattress, and then his head was cradled against the gloriously soft pillow of her thighs, such a relief to his stiff muscles that he couldn’t help but groan softly. Her fingers started combing through his hair again and he let out another pleased whine, sacrificing what little dignity he had left to snuggle into her further.

The Warrior didn’t even remember falling asleep, but once again woke up feeling pleasantly warm and comfortable— that is, until he realised he had shifted during the night so he was draped over her like a blanket, face pressed into her stomach. It was just as embarrassing as the first time, but once again the Bad Wolf girl seemed pleased as punch, saying in a quiet, cheerful tone, “Morning.”

“Er… hello,” he managed to force out as naturally as possible.

He tried to slink off her discreetly and succeeded, thanks in no small part to the way she moved with him, sitting up and smiling brightly like they did this every day. “Breakfast?” she offered.

The Warrior wasn’t even sure if she knew how to cook, but nodded a bit curtly, still a little self-conscious. She bounced up off the bed first, grabbing hold of his hand and starting to chatter happily about possible breakfast options. He watched her putter about the galley with a kind of confused fascination as she did indeed cook for him, nursing the cuppa she made for him. So wrapped up in her was the Warrior that he completely missed the fact that the TARDIS had forsaken her earlier coldness towards the Bad Wolf girl, graciously getting everything she needed ready for her. Later on, he left for the throes of battle again, but this time felt a little lighter somehow, glad to have the Bad Wolf girl to come home to.

Months went by, and the Warrior’s days alternated between blazing war and soothing warmth. He would come back to the TARDIS after being granted leave, sometimes after a day or two, sometimes after several weeks, but always exhausted. It quickly became a ritual, stumbling into the ship only to have Bad Wolf’s waiting arms catch hold of him. 

His initial embarrassment at handing over his dignity for comfort quickly faded, and soon every single time he slept, she was with him. At first he rationalised it— he rested better with her there anyway, and a rested soldier was a better soldier. Eventually he stopped kidding himself entirely, eager to feel her logically impossible warmth, greedily plastering himself to her and refusing to let go throughout the night. 

Then, after a few hours of resting with her, drinking her tea and eating the food she made, the Warrior would head right back out into battle only to repeat the cycle.

There were times during the war that he nearly lost all faith in what he was fighting for. At one point the Time Lords had carelessly made the decision to trigger a supernova in the outer reaches of the Kasterborous cluster, intending to destroy a Dalek base but instead destroying an entire planet of innocents that had been enslaved by the Daleks. He’d returned to the TARDIS belligerent and half-crazed from anger, voice hoarse from shouting at his superiors for their idiocy.

“What’s the matter?” Bad Wolf had asked, the moment he had stomped into the TARDIS like an angry elephant instead of collapsing where he stood, as usual. 

“Go away,” he spat at her rudely, making a beeline for the corridor so he could go into his bedroom and break something.

He flinched when he turned the corner and found her standing there, despite having left her in the console room. She looked entirely unperturbed when she repeated, “What’s the matter?”

“Is there a godforsaken echo in here?” the Warrior snarled, piercing her with his best Oncoming Storm glare. He was even more irked when it just made her blink confusedly. “I said, _go away_.”

She blocked his path when he tried to push past her, and the Warrior laughed aloud humourlessly— how ironic that he was being stopped by a bomb’s projected hologram. Bad Wolf looked him up and down a few times, and his scowl deepened when he got the uncomfortable feeling that she was looking into his soul. The prospect seemed to be confirmed when she said in an impossibly soft, regretful tone, “That wasn’t your fault.”

“How did you even—?” he spluttered, utterly taken aback, anger immediately gone. 

The girl did nothing but look at him sadly, and he suddenly felt lost and hopeless without his anger. Lower lip trembling, he sank to his knees and hauled forward, awkwardly hugging her thighs and sobbing into her ripped tights. The Bad Wolf girl squirmed a bit so she could sit down next to him, manoeuvring herself so her legs wrapped around his body and his head lay against her stomach. It was a familiar position, even though they were on the floor of the hallway instead of on his bed, and it calmed the Warrior down enough for her to speak.

“It gets better,” she said. “I promise.”

“They all died,” he said dumbly, cringing at how clunky it sounded compared to her gentle reassurance. 

“They were meant to. I know, that doesn’t make it better,” she added, when the Warrior opened his mouth. “You are saving the universe.” He settled down for a moment, letting her wipe away his tears before moving on to caress his shoulders, massaging away the hurt. He let out a pitiful noise when her fingers met a knot hard as a stone, between his shoulder blades. “My poor Doctor,” she crooned out, and he let out another whine at the searing heat her words evoked in his gut.

The Warrior stared off blankly into space, revelling in what he felt and considering the ramifications of it. Eventually he said aloud, with an almost curious tone, “I think I love you.”

“I know,” she said without missing a beat, like it was a fact she’d known her whole life. Maybe it was. 

After that he’d drifted off in her arms again and woke up underneath a thick coverlet— the TARDIS’s doing, evidently. That had been the most severe example of hopelessness, though lesser instances cropped up as the Time Lords became increasingly paranoid and anxious. 

As things grew steadily worse over the months and the harshest end to the Time War increasingly became the most likely, all hell seemed to break loose. The Dalek’s primary fleet began to focus their attacks on Arcadia, a move nobody anticipated; the decision to resurrect Rassilon was met with great approval, and then was subsequently followed through; Romana mysteriously disappeared in the wake of the Lord President’s re-election, and the Warrior wished desperately that he had the time to investigate it. There was talk that Rassilon and the High Council were holding all meetings in secret, and that they planned to take some sort of drastic measure to defeat the Daleks— the general rumour was that they were planning to bargain with the Moment, but since it was hidden underneath the grating in his TARDIS the Warrior knew it to be false. 

Quicker than he’d anticipated, the storm arrived, in the form of Arcadia’s fall. The broadcast went out to all time capsules within the time lock; the Warrior was one of the few who didn’t hear it, but it didn’t matter, as he was standing in the thick of it when it occurred. People screamed and ran as hellfire rained down on them, Daleks flew through the air, buildings collapsed and soldiers fired in all directions. The Warrior was the only one who strolled calmly through the horde, going unnoticed until he grabbed a gun from another soldier and used it to blow the words that had been pounding in his head for weeks into one of the few walls left standing. 

_No more._

When the Warrior strolled back into the TARDIS, plan already formed in his mind, Bad Wolf was waiting for him. Their expressions mirrored each other, two calm sets of eyes meeting. “It’s time, then?” he asked her quietly, certain that she’d seen this coming for ages.

As expected, she nodded. “Yeah.”

*

They made the walk to the outer deserts of Gallifrey in silence, hands clasped tightly— this time, at his behest. His Bad Wolf girl seemed focused on the task at hand, leading him for miles and miles into long-dead territory, while he tried to mentally come to peace with the idea of killing himself, a horde of Daleks and every single individual on Gallifrey. The Moment was back in the bag and slung over his back again, the sharp edge of it bumping against his back with every step, making it impossible to forget what he was on his way to do.

The Warrior frowned but didn’t question her when she led him into what looked like a rundown old shack in the middle of the wasteland. He actually found it rather appropriate— it was miles from any sort of civilisation in any direction and he’d left the TARDIS behind, which made it near impossible for the Time Lords to track their location.

Wordlessly, he slipped the bag off his shoulder and gently placed the Moment onto the dusty floor, sitting back on his heels and staring at it. He glanced for a moment at Bad Wolf, but when she merely watched him with a sombre expression, he swallowed down his nervousness and turned back to the ornate box, looking for an on switch.

Scowling when he found nothing, he muttered more to himself than to her, “How do you work? Why is there never a big red button?”

At his words, the box opened up with a mechanical whir, making him jump; from the box ascended a brightly lit red gem on a stalk, reminding him of a rose for some reason. The Warrior quirked an eyebrow at Bad Wolf, and she shrugged one shoulder, saying lightly, “You did ask for it.”

“So I did,” he murmured, chuckling softly. He placed his hands on the jewel, mentally cursing when he noticed they were visibly shaking. His muscles cramped with the mixed desires to both push down as hard as he could or yank his arms away, but before he could do either a thought occurred to him that he just had to voice, before he died. “Did you always know it would come to this?” he said quietly, not looking at her.

“Always,” she replied. “Since I was created.”

He let out a humourless snort, muttering, “Do you know everything?”

She grinned in amusement, tongue at the corner of her mouth. “Almost everything. At least, when it comes to you.”

That struck him as odd, and made the Warrior pull his hands away from the Moment slowly, another question arising. “Why did you choose this form?”

His Bad Wolf girl beamed at him, like she couldn’t be more proud of him for his words. “I chose it,” she began slowly, linking her hands behind her back, “for various reasons. This girl—” She gestured to herself, “— once touched every moment in time, simultaneously, before she even turned twenty. She was the first one I ever saw.” Her eyes drifted towards him and he jumped to his feet, alarmed— they glowed bright gold, like she had two blazing suns for eyes. It quickly dissipated, however, when her expression became wistful. “And she was — _is_ — the only person you ever truly fell in love with.”

His face flushed hot despite himself, but he ignored his feelings of embarrassment, suddenly fascinated. No wonder he was so inexplicably drawn to her. “Who is she?” the Warrior whispered.

“A human girl,” Bad Wolf said a bit sadly, hugging herself as if for comfort. “Rose Tyler. A past companion.” Her nose wrinkled. “Or, future. Sorry, get those mixed up sometimes.”

The bizarre, hopeful feeling he’d let creep up on him suddenly shattered, and he snapped at her, “ _Future_?! How can I have a future with what I’m about to do? This is _death_.”

“No it isn’t,” she said. “Don’t you see? You _have_ a future— you save the universe from the Time War’s destruction. This way, Rose Tyler is born… and so am I.”

The Warrior, suddenly feeling the weight of her words, collapsed to his knees on the dusty ground. What did this mean— that he would find a way to save Gallifrey altogether, or that he would be forced to destroy them all and live on, the sole survivor of a once great race? 

His Bad Wolf girl crouched down next to him, laying a warm hand over his. “I can show you,” she said quietly, eyes wide and earnest. “The future. If you like.”

The utterly maddening desire to see what he would become made him squeeze her hand so tightly it would have broken her fingers, had she truly been human. “ _Yes_ ,” he gasped out, like he couldn’t take in enough air.

She nodded, like she knew he would say that all along (she probably did) before standing up completely straight. The Warrior copied her, watching uncertainly as her eyes began to blaze glorious gold again, until a whirling portal suddenly seemed to bloom from the air itself.

“What are you doing?” he said in awe, stumbling away from it.

“I’m opening windows on your future,” Bad Wolf said, in a strangely far away, echoing voice. “A tangle in time through the days to come, to the man today will make of you.”

To both of their surprise, a bright crimson fez suddenly flew out of the portal and dropped at their feet.

“Okay,” she said curiously. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

*

It was both a blessing and a curse, more the latter than the former, to see what the future would make of him. His next self (or perhaps the one after that, he wasn’t sure) may be a sandshoe wearing flirt, but at least he repented for what he’d done— the Warrior was certain his sentiments would change when he actually became him. Chinny, on the other hand, disturbed him, seeming almost remorseless as they grimly spoke about the day his future self would count how many children he killed, as they sat alone in the Tower. His Bad Wolf girl stayed silent at his side, unseen by his future selves, her head gently pillowed on his shoulder for comfort— and if his other selves noticed his odd gesture in the occasional reach for her hand, they didn’t comment. 

At one point the Warrior became more of a passenger than a participant, just along for the ride, watching as the two Doctors and a brunette companion  (Claire, was it? Or Clara?) tried to reason with a horde of Zygons and stop a grown-up Kate Lethbridge-Stewart from destroying the entire city of London. Bad Wolf stayed at his side the whole time, holding his hand or gripping his arm; he noted at one point but didn’t ask about the way her eyes trailed off to rest on an oblivious Sandshoes for a moment before quickly looking away, a wistful look on her face. Watching his future selves trick the Zygons and the UNIT group into cancelling the detonation only solidified what he’d suspected— this decision may wound him, but he would live. It was nauseating, but he would still live, and be the Doctor again.

Turning to his Bad Wolf girl, he told her quietly, “I’m ready.”

“I know you are,” she answered back with a smile, taking his hand again and leading him through another whirling portal.

He blinked, and there they were, back in the shack in the middle of the desert. The Moment sat exactly where he’d left it, unassuming and patiently waiting. Feeling a little lighter, he turned to his Bad Wolf girl and smiled, as best as this grumpy-faced regeneration could do. “Thank you, love,” he whispered to her, “for showing me.”

“You needed to know,” she answered, shrugging one shoulder much like she had when he’d first met her in the Omega Arsenal. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Turning away, he knelt down yet again and placed his hands on the button again, but almost immediately she spoke up. “One big bang, no more Time Lords. No more Daleks. Are you sure?”

He frowned; why was she asking this now, after all she’d done to convince him? “I was sure when I came in here. There is no other way.”

Her eyes flashed at his words, but she said nothing other than, “You’ve seen the men you will become.”

“Those men,” he murmured. “Extraordinary.”

“They were you.”

“No,” he snapped. “They are the Doctor.” He still wasn’t.

“You’re the Doctor, too,” she said earnestly.

“No. Great men are forged in fire. It is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame, whatever the cost.”

He turned back to the Moment, once again preparing to push the button, but _again_ she stopped him by speaking, this time in a quiet tone. “You know the sound the TARDIS makes? That wheezing, groaning. That sound brings hope wherever it goes.”

His chest tightened with adoration at his ship, his brilliant ship. “Yes. Yes, I like to think it does.”

“To anyone who hears it, Doctor,” she continued, sounding just as affectionate towards the TARDIS as he felt. “Anyone, however lost…” The Warrior jumped to his feet when the entire shack echoed with the grinding sound of the TARDIS materialising. “… even you,” she finished in a gentle voice.

“What did you do?” he gasped, watching his two future ships appear in the back of the shack. 

“Left a window open,” Bad Wolf answered, eyes flashing gold. “Just big enough for two Doctors to climb through.”

The two Doctors and their brunette companion stumbled out. Angry, he snapped at them, “Go away now, all of you. This is for me.”

He was utterly ignored, as Sandshoes looked around the shack, pale and sickly. “These events should be time-locked. We shouldn’t even be here.”

Chinny said pensively, looking less bothered, “So something let us through.”

“You clever boys,” Bad Wolf murmured next to him, sounding pleased.

Hearing her words enraged him, and he rounded on her at once. “What the hell were you thinking?!” he spat at her, ignoring the bizarre looks his two future selves sent him.

“You asked me to show you your future,” she told him, calm in the face of his rage. “Now I’m showing you the present.”

“This was _meant_ to happen?” the Warrior said in shock.

“Er, who are you talking to?” the brunette girl asked confusedly.

Totally ignoring her, the Bad Wolf girl said, “Of course it was meant to happen. This was all written in stone since the dawn of time. You were always meant to save the universe. I told you that.”

“I didn’t think you meant _three_ of me,” the Warrior exclaimed.

“I know we spent all those years burying him in our memory, but I honestly don’t remember being bonkers this go-round,” the converse-wearing idiot muttered to the other Doctor. 

“These versions of you needed to know,” she said, voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear her. 

“Know what?” 

His Bad Wolf girl merely turned to stare hard at Sandshoes, undisguised adoration in her eyes. “Ask him.”

Glancing between the two of them, he said, “Ask him what?”

“About me. About her. Rose Tyler.”

“Rose Tyler…” he repeated aloud, remembering her qualifying the name with ‘the only person he’d ever loved’.

It was only proven when astonishment bloomed on the oldest Doctor’s face, and the younger one whirled around so quickly he nearly unbalanced himself, looking almost horrified. “ _What_?!”

Glancing once more at the Bad Wolf girl, who gave an encouraging nod, he asked them soberly, “Who is she?”

“How did…?” Sandshoes began, but seemed to choke on his own words.

Looking deeply uncomfortable, cheeks flushed red, Chinny pulled out his sonic and busied himself with it, muttering, “Timelines are out of sync. Maybe there’s a backwards echo.”

“It’s not that,” the Warrior said impatiently. “Now answer the blasted question. Who is Rose Tyler?”

Silence stretched on as the Warrior watched his future selves; he flinched back when he saw the look of utter despair on the younger one’s face, and the other one lowered his sonic, frowning like he was aggravated by the question. Without even glancing at each other, they mumbled in perfect synchrony, “Everything.”

He blinked, taken aback from the weight of their response. He’d mistaken his oldest self for remorseless, but the mere mention of the true form this Bad Wolf girl had taken made him certain that he was just better at hiding it. Turning back to her, the Warrior saw she was beaming at the two of them, tears in her eyes. “Don’t you see?” she whispered, hands clasped and pressed tightly against her chest. 

He wasn’t sure. “I don’t know what I’m meant to see,” he admitted.

“Take a closer look.”

All light in the room suddenly dimmed, making everyone in the shack look around. “What’s happening?” asked the brunette girl, Clara.

“Nothing,” the Warrior murmured, staring at the Moment. “It’s a projection.”

Projected above the ornate box was the image of a fleet of a million Daleks, all setting a course for a planet— not Gallifrey, the Warrior was confused to notice, but what looked like Earth. 

“Are those the Daleks above Gallifrey?” Clara said.

“It’s not Gallifrey,” Chinny said in confusion. “It’s Earth.”

“I don’t understand,” Sandshoes said, voice still a little hoarse from earlier. “What—?”

They all gasped in unison when the Daleks were suddenly dissolved into mists by what looked like a golden tendril gently sweeping over them. The mist dissipated almost immediately, leaving no trace that there was ever Daleks there at all. 

“Bad Wolf,” the two future Doctors once again said in unison, watching with wide eyes.

“That’s where Rose Tyler became Bad Wolf,” murmured said Bad Wolf girl in his ear. “And, subsequently, when I first met her.”

“What does it mean?” the Warrior asked, but instead of her answering, his future selves did, after glancing at each other and breaking out into brilliant smiles.

“It means, Granddad,” said the idiot in the bowtie, grinning like a loon, “that someone’s letting us know there’s another way.”

“Another—?” he began to say, but the confused expression on his face dropped like a stone when the last handful of months with her came rushing back, all at once. Her multiple mentions of how he ‘saved the universe and everyone in it’ and how it would all work out in the end suddenly made perfect sense. “She didn’t just show me any old future, she showed me exactly the future I needed to see,” he said in shock, face splitting into a crazed grin. Laughing out his delight to the sky, he burst out gleefully, “Oh my dear Bad Wolf girl, you’ve been trying to tell me all along!” before seizing her by the shoulders and smacking a kiss right on her mouth. 

“What the hell?” Clara exclaimed, at what was probably the odd image of him snogging the air. “Is somebody there?”

He ignored her and Chinny’s attempts to sonic where his Bad Wolf girl was standing. Pulling away, he grinned just as manically as the Doctors had earlier and said urgently, “She’s right. There is another way. There always was. It was never a choice between destroying my own people or letting the universe burn.”

“Then what do we do?” the younger Doctor asked, looking nervous to be hopeful.

“What you’ve always done,” Bad Wolf murmured. “Be a Doctor.” 

The Warrior exhaled a breath, nodding sharply to her before answering his future self’s question. “We will be the Doctor.”

With his words, the image of space above Earth vanished, the room brightening again. “You’re not actually suggesting that we change our own personal history?” asked Sandshoes, though he looked a little delighted.

“We change history all the time,” Chinny pointed out.

“I’m suggesting far worse,” the Warrior said, pulling out his own sonic and watching the Moment’s button descend like a withering flower back into the box. “There’s still a billion billion Daleks up there, attacking. But there’s something those billion billion Daleks don’t know.”

“What?” Clara asked, looking between the three of them and appearing utterly lost. “What don’t they know?”

The Warrior grinned at his Bad Wolf girl, and said triumphantly, “This time, there’s three of us. And soon, there will be more.”

As his future selves’ eyes lit up with realisation and they let out delighted exclamations, he lifted up a hand and trailed the back of his finger lightly over the apple of her cheek. “I love you,” he said, in his quietest voice so the other Doctors couldn’t hear.

“I know,” she answered yet again, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his open palm. “But you can’t take me with you.”

“I know,” he echoed her forlornly, lowering his hand. 

And with that, he pulled away entirely, turning his back on her sweet face and following one of the Doctors into his TARDIS. His only solace was that, one day, he’d see her again, when he wore sandshoes and styled his hair into ridiculous heights. 

After all, he was about to save the universe.

*

A woman with short, straight blonde hair walked primly down the hallway, swiping identification naming her ‘Kate Stewart’ against a high-tech scanner on the wall, opening a pair of black doors. Two men followed her, each holding one end of an ancient-looking ornate box that looked like it had been in the midst of a massive explosion. Dust covered it, coating the men’s hands, and the brass designs were blackened with ash. 

“Where d’you want this thing, boss?” puffed one of the men, as they entered the room full of shelves and odd items.

“Not sure,” Kate said pensively. “Put it on this shelf. We’ll label it when we get our scientists to figure out what exactly it is.”

The two men plunked it none too gently on a lower shelf, dusting off their hands and following Kate out of the room. Unbeknownst to them, the consciousness that lived inside the box giggled at them from inside it. As the doors swung shut and locked with a mechanical click, it settling itself down for another long wait inside what looked like yet another vault of alien weapons. 

It didn’t mind the wait much. After all, it was only a matter of time before the Doctor found it.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Beta: Miral-Romanov and hawkerin**.
> 
>  **All my fics can be found on fanfiction.net, teaspoon and tumblr**.
> 
> A/N: The brand new part eight-point-five in the Forever and More series :) I gotta tell you guys, I SLAVED over this thing so it could make up for the appalling failure that was Together. I still think it falls flat (-_-) but maybe that's just because it's all I've been looking at for the last three weeks and it's burnt permanently into my eyeballs. I also like to think that the Moment was really an 'echo' of Rose Tyler (or sometimes Rose Tyler herself, trapped in there by the Time Lords :D) so I apologise to anyone who thinks a Moment/Doctor fic is 'weird'. Super-duper special thank you to hawkerin, who did an excellent impromptu beta job on this fic, assuaged my worries and basically saved me from scrapping this entirely. Merry Christmas everyone!


End file.
